


In The Night Your Heart Is Full + By The Morning Empty

by darkpvradise



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer, 5SOS
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety Attacks, Depressed Luke, Drunk Luke, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lashton - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, One Shot, Self-Hatred, but by the end he's happy, luke is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4413932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkpvradise/pseuds/darkpvradise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is hard when you're empty inside. Luke should know. </p><p>Or, where Luke decides to go get drunk to fill the void that he is, and starts to realize Ashton could fill him just as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Night Your Heart Is Full + By The Morning Empty

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first one-shot I've ever been happy enough with to post. Idk it might be just a bit unrealistic and choppy but whatever. I never realized while writing it how perfect that line from Radioactive by Marina and the Diamonds fit with it...but afterwords I put it as the title. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> p.s. I have no idea how I came up with so many synonyms for empty

At 2 am in Los Angeles, things are finally peaceful. All of the boys are in each of their hotel rooms, with John and a couple of other people across the hall. Everything is peaceful, except for the last room at the end of the hall where Luke is sleeping.  
Well. Supposed to be sleeping.  
But he's not. He's crying in bed, in only his boxers, clawing at the sheets and wanting the world to go away. Because he knows in the morning he's not allowed to feel. He has to wake up and get dressed and get doused in makeup that makes him look at least human and not dead, although that's what he wants to be. He knows he has to slap on a smile and keep his hands still in front of cameras because oh god, who can know you have problems. Who can know you aren't perfect.  
He's not. He's crying and sobbing and he doesn't look like the beautiful pop star he was made out to be right now. He looks like complete and utter shit, just the pale, red-eyed depressed kind.  
His phone buzzes, and he lifts his heavy head to glance at the screen illuminating the bedside table. 

Mum  
Hope you're having a good time. Remember when you dreamed about traveling to California! Can't believe that was only four years ago. Oi you're getting old. Love you!

Luke lets his face hit the mattress again because fuck that. He isn't happy. He doesn't know why he ever ran downstairs back at home when he had dreams of playing stadiums and meeting girls and being happy and shouted them at his mum in sentences without punctuation.  
He loves being on stage, he really does. It's one of the things that will never fail to fill him up. It's adrenaline, and excitement, and pure ecstasy. It fills him to the brim, and he always walks off stage with a huge smile and a heart spilling over.  
But it's afterwords, when he realizes this isn't everything. He's still young, and this is his life. He sells out arenas but he's still Luke. And that's what brings him down. He can't find the happiness he gets from performing inside himself. He can't fill himself up.  
His phone screen goes black again but Luke only sees because he's sat up, back against the headboard. His lungs feel like they collapsed inside of him and his face is on fire.  
"Please kill me," he says to the universe. The universe doesn't answer.  
The clock reads 2:37 am. Luke's head is a mess.  
I could just walk right out, he thinks. I need to get out of here. A club? A bar? God, I need a bar. It would be so nice to get pissed drunk right now.  
Luke wipes his face with the back of his hand and decides.  
With limbs that feel like lead, he pulls sweatpants, a t-shirt, and vans on and creeps out of his room.  
Things seem to be going well and Luke's head is praising him, practically breaking down at the relief he's promising himself. He needs to find somewhere that fills him up before the sun rises and he's empty again. Things seem to be going well until he's passing Calum's door with his head down and he hits a body, of all things and his mental fantasy starts to crash and burn before his watery eyes.  
"Luke?"  
Luke looks up.  
Calum, groggy and dressed in only sweatpants, is standing in front of him with a phone and a credit card in his hand. Luke doesn't know what to say.  
"H-hey. Calum."  
Calum scratches his head and the seconds seem to drag on for hours for Luke, whose sole thought is I need to get out of here. I need to get out now.  
"What are you doing up?" Calum asks. He holds up his phone and credit card. "I was just going to get a Pepsi from the vending machine in the next hall. John only bought coke and I was on skype with Mali trying to stay awake."  
"I'm just going on a walk," Luke says in a cheery voice he almost doesn't recognize. It's his fake Luke voice, the one that belongs on radio shows and in Q and A's. It's his empty voice.  
"A bit late for that I'd say, but hey man, do you." Calum says, clapping a hand onto Luke's shoulder, which makes him tense up. Luke smiles his plastic smile and lets Calum make his way in the other direction before continuing.  
He keeps his strides long and at a comfortable pace, which relaxes his head. He'll be fine, for tonight.  
When he gets down through the empty elevator and steps out the lobby doors into the stuffy California air, he feels like a whole new person. Still sad, but new. Different.  
He avoids hailing a cab because he only has a couple bucks in his sweatpants pocket, and it would stress him out too much to try and count it. He sets off down the sidewalk, making sure to look down the alleys in case fans are camped out in hopes of seeing him. He just isn't in the mood right now.  
LA is alive. The sidewalks are bare, lucky for him. But the cars are whizzing by and the buildings that touch the sky are bright and shining. In Luke's hazy vision, the colors blur and burn into the back of his eyes.  
He finally turns a corner and there's a pub, one he can't quite see the name of but it doesn't matter. His head is racing again, losing the calming pace he set. He's aching for something, anything to fill him up for now.  
He enters and sees a lone bartender and a quiet couple in the far booth. He should be panicking, and leaving, and telling himself he can't be alone with this person because he can't keep up a conversation. But he's so desperate it doesn't matter.  
He steps up and sits on a stool, relieved when all the bartender asks is "What are you having?"  
"I'll take a pint glass of straight gin," Luke mumbles. That's one of the few phrases he's forced himself to be confident with. People don't fuck with people who drink straight gin. The people who drink straight gin fuck with themselves.  
The bartender, who could only be 25 at the most, makes an alarmed face but moves back behind the bar to get Luke's drink. Luke wants to cry, but there is no reason to. Just the thought of that makes him want to cry more.  
When Luke gets his drink, he sips it eagerly with tears clogging his eyes. It tastes like fucking antifreeze, and his throat stings, but it feels so good. And though it's only the first sip, he feels his stomach tighten and warm.  
The bartender is staring and Luke tries to ignore him, but that fails when he asks "Everything alright buddy?" With concern dripping from his people-friendly voice.  
Luke puts his drink down and looks the man straight in the eye, and lets a sole tear find its way down his cheek. "My life is perfect but I want to die," he says solemnly, and picks his drink back up. The bartender looks like someone just showed him a cow being slaughtered. "That's...um. That's some deep shit man. I'm sorry," he shuts up quickly, and Luke laughs to himself, and at the wonders straight gin does.  
Luke pours most of the drink down his throat, and coughs, but keeps it in. He can feel the alcohol buzzing in his veins, creating a deceiving feeling of serenity. He looks up at the clock and sees it reads 2:58. It's taken him 8 minutes to almost finish one pint. And he's nowhere close to done for the night.  
So Luke finishes that and orders another glass, and then another. He can't feel his face or the tears dried on his cheeks and he still wants to die but it's hidden under the surface. The drinks fill him up until he's spilling once more, sitting alone at a bar in an unfamiliar city with a storm inside his mind.  
"You sure you want another glass, buddy?" The bartender asks cautiously after Luke finishes his third gin and waves over another. He's the only one in the bar now and can barely keep his eyes open.  
"I can't tell you how much I want this shit," Luke slurs, squeezing the edge of the countertop. "I want to stay full, I want to stay happy and DRUNK!" And then he's laughing maniacally, his head swimming and echoing.  
"This is your last one," The bartender says, slowly handing Luke a fourth glass. He looks so scared and Luke thinks it's hilarious, giggling and hiccuping between sips of gin.  
He remembers finishing that drink, then really having to piss. Then he remembers everything in the bathroom being dizzy and his face in the mirror, moving back and forth and taunting him. And after that, he remembers nothing. Pure nothing, just how he wanted.  
But it's when he wakes up in a soft bed and it's broad daylight (and God, who decided to make the sun so bright?) that he realizes he fucked up. He closes his eyes and groans, which is met with a, "Jesus Christ, he's finally up!" From someone who sounds like Ashton.  
And it is. Luke opens his eyes again and Ashton's standing over him and it isn't so bright anymore. Luke sees Ashton's worried hazel eyes and his frowning pink lips and wonders how he's never noticed how pretty Ashton's face is.  
"Luke. You're fucking stupid," Ashton says, and he's right. Luke nods and it hurts. It hurts to fucking nod.  
"We got a call that you passed out in a pub bathroom and hit your forehead on a sink. Really, Luke? Really?"  
Luke stares at the ceiling as he hears a voice say, "You said you were going for a walk!" Calum, and then, "You're lucky we found you before the paps did, Luke. Your career would be dead if we didn't." John. The only one who hasn't bitched him out is Michael, but he's probably still asleep or something. Lucky Michael.  
Ashton reaches down and it looks like an angel descending from heaven to touch him, Luke is so hungover. He actually thinks he still might be a bit drunk because the world is so bright and blurry and Ashton is absolutely beautiful.  
Ashton pushes Luke's sweaty hair out of his face and Luke sighs. He regrets nothing, although he should. But if he did, he wouldn't get Ashton holding his face in his hand like this. He doesn't exactly feel empty yet.  
John starts a rant about irresponsible choices and how he had to pay off Luke's tab and how he should be able to trust Luke to take care of himself and Luke tries to listen, he really does. But suddenly it feels like his ears have popped and he can't hear a thing and everything is Ashton. Ashton is looking down on him with such care and running a thumb down his flushed cheek over and over. Luke isn't empty. He's full, so full.  
"Can you stand?" Someone asks, and then it's not Ashton. Ashton has to move and step back while Calum tries to get Luke to get up. Luke feels drained as he sees Ashton's hand retreat and feels Calum's prod at his side. "Come on, asshole. We have to get you in the shower and into clothes that don't smell like alcohol and sweat."  
Luke gets up and lets Calum lead him to the bathroom, limping and holding his heavy head up with his hand. Calum starts the shower and Luke crouches down by the toilet to puke, almost missing.  
"I seriously can't believe you, Luke. We thought you'd be okay. You have been okay! It's been months, yet you do it again. This can't possibly be fun for you. You're always a wreck afterwords."  
Luke grunts into the toilet and wishes Calum would shut up because he isn't full anymore and his head is starting to scream at him again.  
"Get in. You have 15 minutes and if you pass out again at least yell or something so you don't fucking die," Calum spits and leaves. Luke slowly stands up and undresses, holding onto the wall. He doesn't dare look in the mirror. He'll just be consumed by self-loathing.  
He takes his shower in the hottest water and lets it sear the skin he hates. He washes his hair with the nice coconut shampoo on the shelf, which leads him to believe he's in Ashton's hotel room. He had been laying in Ashton's bed. Luke is empty, but he feels as if he got a wave of fullness, strong and prominent. He reminds himself to think about that more.  
The 15 minutes goes by fast, because then he hears a fist on the door that makes him jump. "Luke? You done yet?"  
"Yeah," Luke replies weakly, because it's Calum again, and he was hoping for Ashton. The door opens and Calum drops him a sex pistols tee and some skinny jeans along with new boxers on the floor. "We don't have anywhere to be, but John said if you stay in pajamas you'll just mope around all day. So get dressed."  
John's right.  
Luke shuts off the water and feels his inflamed skin, it burning everywhere he presses. It's nice. He likes it. He grabs the fluffy towel hanging by the door, wraps it around himself, and sits on the bathroom floor and breathes.  
Every once in awhile he'll do this while in the bathroom. He'll sit down and compose himself, so when he walks out of the safety of the bathroom he won't break down. He knows he's going to step into judgement and dissatisfaction. He just has to prepare himself for it.  
When the bathroom door creaks open, Luke feels everyone look over at him. He has the clothes on that Calum gave him, and combed his hair off to the side instead of up. He walks up to the boys (including Michael now, who is just staring intently at Luke) and sits down awkwardly.  
"Luke, your skin is all red," Ashton says, reaching out. It's painful for Luke to not lean into his touch.  
"The shower was just a bit hot, that's all." Luke says. He senses a headache coming on, but he can't afford to let it take over unless he's planning on having gin for lunch, too.  
"Luke, we need to know you won't do this again," Michael says. He's apparently been informed of Luke's major fuck up by the other boys, which kind of makes Luke upset.  
"I won't," Luke grumbles, playing with his fingers. He can't stand this. What is he supposed to say? I'm going to be a pretty little poster child who only makes macaroni necklaces and drinks apple juice?  
"Really, Luke. We're worried about you. It was really bad before, but after all this time it just got worse. Did you see the bruise on your forehead?" Ashton says softly, and he's right. Luke hasn't seen the bruise but he's felt it and it's hell. It's right above his left eyebrow, and he's sure it's yellow and blue and very unattractive.  
"I just wanted to be full," Luke whispers. No one hears him.  
"We need a straight answer, Luke."  
"I'll be okay! I just...it had been awhile. I missed it." Getting drunk, that is. Alcohol is the best girlfriend Luke could ever have. She's always there for him and fills him up when he's at his worst. But right now he's so empty, empty and vacant.  
"You'll be okay Luke. We'll help you get through this," Calum says, and the others agree. Luke's looking at his feet but he can feel the pitiful stares burning into his flesh. "You don't need to get drunk to be happy, man. There's so much more out there for you-" and that's when Luke feels a reservoir break behind his eyes, and starts crying.  
Once again, he wakes up. He knows he had a panic attack, because he never remembers those. And his wrists always hurt afterwords because he starts scratching at them.  
It's darker now, like the sun is almost set. And whoever's room he's in, it's extremely quiet.  
He sits up and looks around and almost jumps out of bed when he sees the figure lying next to him.  
It doesn't take long to identify him as Ashton, his tan muscular back and golden curls giving it away. He's facing the opposite way of Luke and it sounds like he's snoring.  
Luke has no idea why Ashton let him sleep in his bed with him. He's scared for him to wake up. He doesn't know what might happen.  
But of course, if the voice in Luke's head decides to run its mouth about something, it happens.  
Ashton stirs, and Luke is frozen in place. He's still frozen in place when Ashton turns over and looks up at Luke with bright, confused eyes.  
"Well I see that you're up," he says. Luke nods and stares some more.  
"You broke down in front of everyone. It was heart breaking, Luke, you were crying and scratching your arms and telling me you just wanted me to make you 'full' over and over again. I laid in bed with you until you fell asleep from exhaustion."  
Ashton finishes and Luke blushes. Hard. He doesn't even know why, and it bothers him. Who cares if Ashton had to calm him down from a panic attack? The other boys have done it before. It was never weird with them.  
"You okay now, sweetie?" Comes out of Ashton's mouth and wow, Luke could use some practice with this stuff. He flops onto the bed and says yes in a barely audible tone.  
Ashton seemingly takes that for an answer, as he presses no further.  
But finally, the question Luke dreads every time he rambles about his own well being passes Ashton's lips- "What do you mean when you say you want to be full?"  
He wants to tell Ashton everything, every thought and voice he has inside him, but he can't. So he keeps it concise and hopes to God it won't scare Ashton away.  
"Do you ever feel empty?" Luke asks.  
Ashton nods.  
"You just feel so vacant, and hollow and nothing satisfies you. Nothing normal is normal to you anymore. Everything is just...dull."  
"Yeah."  
"Well, I feel like that all the time."  
"Oh."  
"When I say I want to be full, I mean happy. I mean I want to flood this depressing void that I am with something pure. Drinking fills me up. Being on stage fills me up-" Luke pauses, taking a deep breath and tangling his fingers in the sheets- "and you. Just today I realized you do too."  
Silence.  
Luke's head gives him a reaction second, then immediately fires into hateful thoughts. He doesn't want you. You're insane. You should just never talk. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds back tears, grateful that the sun had set and Ashton can't see his pathetic face.  
It only takes a moment for Ashton to say, "Luke...come here."  
Luke leans over but instead of letting him cry on his shoulder, Ashton pulls Luke into a kiss- a sharp, meaningful one that feels like it's been put off for way too long. Luke feels his heart surge with happiness and overflow.  
When Ashton pulls away breathless, Luke can't comprehend. He's full, he's so full and he can't contain himself. He pinches his arm to make sure it's all real, and it fucking is.  
"Are you full yet?" Ashton whispers, and Luke feels like bursting into tears again right then and there.  
"Yes."  
Ashton smiles through the dark and kisses Luke again, and again, and Luke loves it. He is happy.  
And with Ashton's soft lips on his, he prays to the powers that be. He prays for whatever this is to stay so just maybe, he can wake up in the mornings full instead of empty.


End file.
